


Whatever Hope is Yours

by Forodwaith (Northland)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Extra Treat, Gen, Mortality, Rivendell | Imladris, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northland/pseuds/Forodwaith
Summary: The War of the Rings came even to Imladris.





	Whatever Hope is Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarSpray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this bite-size treat!

Dawn would not break for hours yet; the winter solstice had only just passed, and the sun rose tardily and retired early. Arwen wrapped her thick mantle more tightly around her against the cold mist and watched her brothers prepare to ride. Halbarad and the other Rangers stood ready, faint shadows drawn up in ragged ranks. 

She had done all she could. Her gifts of speed and strength, in the form of her horse and her banner, went with them. Now all she had before her was more waiting; waiting for the Enemy to send his forces against her home.

***

Arwen was not foolish enough to dismiss orcs as merely stupid brutes. Some were cunning, and some—the most dangerous—were not only clever but thoughtful. They were often greedy, easily cowed by concern for their own skin, but not this time. With the Liar’s will behind them and his need to break the Eldar forever, they would not give up until Imladris was utterly destroyed. 

"Why so many?" Tasariel asked, the light in her eyes dimmed by fear. "Why do they not march south to swell his army there? If Gondor falls, surely Imladris is easy enough to take."

*

She watched innumerable black specks crawling over the cliffs on the far side of the Bruinen. "He believes victory inevitable. He is confident enough to spare this horde, which is only a fraction of his vast army. And my father is an old adversary of his." 

And surely, the Liar must suspect the presence of something else. Few of the Eldar left outside Aman were capable of wielding a Ring of Power: Cirdan, her grandmother, perhaps Thranduil... and here in this valley were two, Glorfindel and her father. To capture them alone, Sauron would deem this minor sanctuary worth breaking.

*

Arwen pushed away from the cliff's edge. Lichen smeared her palms and she breathed an apology to the stone’s presence. The valley’s embrace was a double-edged refuge. Isolation was Imladris’ strength, but under determined attack it was as easy to bottle up as to defend. 

It had taken aid from Arnor to break the Witch-King's siege. Arwen remembered years of lean rations, her fingers worn raw from the bowstring. 

At least this war would be shorter. Either the Liar would conquer, and she would be killed; or he would be defeated utterly, and she would still die—by her own choice.

***

The arrow sheared past Arwen again in memory. Had it struck her, even had her body not been killed instantly, she would have fallen broken to the bottom of the gorge. 

Would that death have been irreversible? Her choice was made; was that enough to tie her to mortality? Had Arwen already been exiled from the halls of Mandos the day she took Estel's hand? 

The cold inside her was more piercing than the February air. To die, now, and journey alone to whatever destination awaited mortal souls, leaving Aragorn behind... She shivered and huddled deeper into her mother's mantle.


End file.
